…or wherever it is the telly’s located.[ Assuming, that is, that you own one! ]

and
jumping right in on that tip

[ the one by which I’m putting the ass in “assumption,” yes ]

I dare say:
perhaps you recognize the following image, credited to a certain ‘Dirk Mai‘

[ Make-Up by Stacey Hummell ]

Yeah, you know, the one in which I’m all gussied-up in the grand regalia of Mildred von Hildegard’s
highly-coveted [ & oft-imitated ] line of conceptual bespoke brilliance
known as ‘Mother of London‘
[ …? ]

Well,
the photo shoot was captured on film—
namely, the latest documentary by Christopher Hinesentitled

“Chiseled bodies, flawless skin, sculpted jawlines. At a time when popular culture objectifies men more than ever, it’s hard for them to avoid the pressure to possess such physical traits. In his follow-up to The Butch Factor, director Christopher Hines exposes how far some will go to attain the ‘Adonis Factor’ — the kind of god-like masculine beauty only seen in ancient Greek sculptures.

Hines takes viewers on an eye-opening journey through circuit parties, gay porn, and [ AHEM! ] avant-garde fashion photo shoots, all of which promote their own kinds of idealized physiques. By capturing a diverse range of voices — from those who dedicate their lives to the pursuit of mainstream male beauty, to those who openly spurn it — The Adonis Factor ultimately
poses the question: does a man’s fixation on body image make him any happier?”

“More than ever, we live in a body conscious world, one where images of the male body are targeted at you 24/7. No wonder then that many men, both gay and straight, find themselves unhappy with their body image, opting to go to various lengths, some extreme, in the pursuit of their ideal of physical perfection.

Yet in an increasingly superficial society, one where your look may well shape, if not define you, is this any surprise? Indeed as one participant in this thought-provoking documentary from writer, producer and director Christopher Hines put it, “how I look has made my experience of being a gay man, the
better” and here cue more parties, more sex, more friends. Yet life is a lot more complicated, as Hines sets out to show, along the way taking into account the thoughts of dermatologists, doctors, psychologists and sexologists, to plastic surgeons kept busy with never-ending requests for face lifts to pec implants.

Yet whilst surgically enhanced male beauty comes with a price tag attached to it, others things in life arrive with alarming side effects. For here Hines charts not just the use of illegal growth hormones and steroid abuse, but shocking slimming disorders that see twink styled teens resorting to aerobic bulimia, literally working off everything they eat, as opposed to throwing the calories up, just to stay thin beyond thin. All of which brings to mind the question of what has society become, when the pressure to fit in results with many playing Russian Roulette with their health?”

[ In Conclusion ]

“Filled with more buffed-to-perfection muscular studs than what you can shake a waxing strip at…” [ L O V E ! ] Hines “deliver[s] an eye-opening insight into the yin and yang of the gay world.”

“…Willowy model Clint Catalyst [ with a marvelous makeup sequence that magically employs loose chains and spray paint to conjure up a compelling cover visage ] has moved miles away from the persecution of small-town bigotry to moulding his admiration for the likes of David Bowie into a personal statement that can be truly savoured.

By journey’s end, there is much hope that the queer amongst us will be accepted first by themselves, then by their peers and finally by the world at large. As commentator-comedian Bruce Vilanch points out, the ultimate male physique has been deified and envied since the original Olympics, where competitors never had to struggle into skimpy spandex.”

In a city illustrious for back-handed, capped-teeth “compliments” and unpredictable, unspoken disdain thinly disguised by a veritable check-list of publicists’ blanket statements, Hildegard’s choice for her 160-characters-or-less slot on The ‘Twits seemed fitting with the images I’d seen of her clothing designs: anachronistic — a fetish posture collar adorned with tattered lace, roses in an array of shadowy hues and elements of Victorian mourning attire; sensual — soft tattered edges, the type of attire that fingertips long to touch; unapologetic — ruched leather, straps and buckles arranged without regard to which body parts “should” or “shouldn’t” be exposed. Essentially, her handiwork is the antithesis of all that is red carpet Hollywood and relentlessly bourg.

Said another way? While I’m unsure how many details of aforementioned ‘Secret Project’ I’m permitted to share at this juncture in time, a detail I can share is this: upon arrival at the studio, I discovered a stylist had hoarded the collar Her Mother Almightiness intended for the shoot.

It’s a vicious business, fashion. All the same, we managed to share an afternoon with neither smileage nor spontaneity in short supply. Granted, the all my collaborative efforts with Mssr. Mai, each has produced its own set of explosive alchemical reactions resulting from a mixture of mysticism, madness, the Not only does The Mother corrupt traditional perceptions of fetish-wear and period costume, but she’s also adorable, donning death metal t-shirts and boundless charisma in the process.

Yes, my choice of verbiage was deliberate — just as one can be over-dressed in attitude — and yes, I hope to be swathed in her sublime regalia again in the not-too-distant future. Of more immediate import, however — particularly for those quite a distance from her L.A. showroom — I have advantageous news :

Between October 2008 and now [or, with more the 22nd of May, Two Thousand and Ten], this textile fascinatrix has posted a mere six items in her etsy shop.

Two of the six are fresh on the market, and while they’re categorized as menswear, I’d classify them as UNISEXY…

Wait–SCRATCH! I’ve just been holding back to make this post “stand out from the pack.”

Yeah, that’s it…

Actually, since “L.A. Fashion Week” happened in various mutations this fall–What do we have now…three per season? Can’t. Keep. Up.–I thought it might be nice to take a look back at runway shots from the